There was no need to run. At least, not yet. No, a very brisk, smart pace would do it, because there was absolutely no reason to panic. So the TARDIS had gotten some funny readings. So they were the kind of readings that would herald the end of days and all things. That was okay, because what he read had to be wrong.

But it had been worth checking out, anyway. He keyed in the coordinates. On opening the door, he found he was a little ways off course - he'd keyed everything in fine, he found on second calculation, but the TARDIS had chosen to land a here, instead. Not unusual! She would have her reasons.

So he left her behind and walked to the location instead. And apparently what he'd seen on his screens was false, anyway. Because there was absolutely nothing in this football field except wet grass and churned up mud.

Even so, that feeling did not go away. And when he was in sight of the TARDIS again, the Doctor began to run and closed distance in a few long-legged strides. He shut the door behind himself and yanked off his trenchcoat, leaving him in a blue pinstripe suit and red chucks and he threw his coat into the fork and it ... fell to the ground.

He stopped suddenly.

The lights were wrong. The console, wrong. That wasn't there before, and neither was that ...and this ... this wasn't his ...

The Doctor had been arguing with the TARDIS all morning. Nothing entirely strange... She often decided to throw him off somewhere random, or decide she wanted to stop working now and again. He was often sure that she would do it on purpose to give him some hassle. It wouldn't surprise him, anyway. Still, today was nothing different. This time she had taken him to a football field and refused to display what was causing that infernal beeping sound. 'Alright, alright! What do you want me to do then?' He threw his arms up in the air and shouted at her.

To his surprise... There was a response. A response of a voice he recognized... One he had not heard for countless years now. The Doctor turned, only to see himself, albeit a younger version of himself, looking rather lost and confused. 'What the hell are you doing here? You shouldn't be here.'

The Doctor stared at the man standing in hs TARDIS. He was thin and tall, not unlike himself. His mop of hair desperately needed taming - had he no clue about gel at all? Bowtie, suspenders, tweedy. And he wore an expression of entitlement and confidence. This man intended to be here, was at home here ... This was ... Complicated.

"This isn't possible," he said quietly. His gaze flickered around the changed console room, but it was familiar enough to him to kow this was still his, just a later version. "Wellll," he corrected himself, striding forward, "not-not possible. Not impossible. Just ... unlikely and a little bit scary. Well, ah, hello." he finished quickly.

The Doctor looked at the younger man in the suit... Good god, did he really used to wear that foul thing? It was hideous. 'I know, but, you shouldn't be here.' He repeated. 'This is my TARDIS, you have your own. Your own time stream.' He paused and turned to the TARDIS who was still emitting that damned beeping sound. 'Will you be quiet?! Can't you see I have something else to deal with now?' She continued to beep at him, and he groaned in frustration, turning back to his younger self. 'She doesn't usually do this...' He said, a little embarrassed. 'Not showing me something important... Could have something to do with why you're here, actually...'

"No, no, this should be my TARDIS," the Doctor argued. He let his gaze wander from this other older (how older?) version of himself to the design of the console room and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "This is exactly where she wanted to set down. I went out, came back, and here you are. See, I don't like this at all, what is it with the showy floor?"

He pulled out his sonic and jogged outside, waving it around the edges of the TARDIS. Yes, this one was right on top of his ... Which was good, it meant she wasn't lost...

'Oi! Stop sonicing my TARDIS!' The Doctor shouted at him, following him to the door and poking his head out of the door. 'Showy floor? Showy floor?! This is a fantastic floor. I think it just shows that I have better taste in my old age. Couldn't stand that awful design you were traveling around in, far too cold, not enough life.' He stepped outside and poked his younger self. 'So, where is it for you? How old are you?'

"Awful design?!" the Doctor reared back, offended in turn. "Oh come on, you loved it!" he tucked his sonic away and coughed lightly. He didn't know how much later this version of himself was ...or how far into his future he lived.

"Just watched Lady Christina fly away in a magic bus. Well, not a magic bus. But magic enough." he looked the other man up and down and asked a question he didn't really want an answer to, but needed. "How old are you?"

'I loved it, yes, but... Well...' The Doctor shrugged. 'Things change, you know that just as well as I do. So!' He clapped his hands together and headed back into the TARDIS, taking the time to whack the console in another attempt to stop that damned alarm. 'I'm pushing two thousand. I think, anyway.' He shouted out to his younger self. 'It's pretty hard to keep track! Come on...' He groaned, now talking to the TARDIS. The monitor was down and he was pressing all sorts of buttons to try and get it to show him exactly what was wrong and why she was crying at him.

"Two thousand," the Doctor repeated quietly, watching the later version of himself beating up the console in a useless effort to shut it up. This could be the next one, immediately after himself. That gave the Doctor an uncomfortable, churning sensation in the pit of his stomach. He knew it happened ... it had already happened nine times prior ... but he quite liked who and what he was this time and here was definite proof that he would die. This personality, would die, and this .... guy was going to go galavanting off in a new desktop.

No time to think about that. He deliberately tore his thoughts away to yell at himself.

"Stop hitting her! Oh no no no, don't tell me she's developed a liking for that..!"

After pressing a rather large looking button, the alarm stopped and he let out a cry of happiness. 'Finally! I knew you had it in you old girl.' The Doctor affectionately stroked the console, before turning and looking at his younger self, resting against the console. He looked much happier than before. 'What? Oh, no, no... I just don't have much patience... Though between you and me, I think she likes to frustrate me on purpose. Now then!' He spun around and hopped over to the monitor, which was now showing what he wanted to see. Nasty looking numbers all over the screen. He sighed in frustration, and looked around the console to his younger self once more. 'Come here... What do you make of this?'

The Doctor approached and took his black-rimmed glasses from his pocket as he did so. He slipped them on and leaned forward with his hands tucked into his pockets to study the screen. Despite wearing glasses, he still squinted at it. He puzzled at the jumble of numbers and symbols and their meaning.

He reached up and scratched his spiky hair and then gripped it at the back. "No. No no. That doesn't make sense. That can't happen. It's wrong. Thump it again."

'A few moments ago you were complaining about how I was hitting her...' The Doctor muttered, tapping the monitor a few times. Out came the sonic screwdriver and he ran it over the readings, popping it up to take a look at what it made of it. 'They're legitimate. Official. All real. But why...' He pushed the screwdriver into itself and pocketed it again, before holding onto the monitor handle and looking around the back of it to check for any sabotage. 'And how...'

Despite the immediacy of the importance with the numbers, the Doctor stole a quick glance at the screwdriver the Doctor was holding. It was vastly different to his and as he looked at it, he couldn't help wondering if it had a red setting ... and dampers.

He returned his attention to the dancing, confused numbers and studied them for a few moments. He ran a number of quick calculations in his head, carrying the nine and the cucumber, not forgetting to shift the decimal in the back and duplicate the six hundred and five ...

He had almost reached the conclusion ...

The Cloister Bell started to ominiously chime. It had an echo, as if two were ringing, almost exactly in tune with one another. The Doctor looked up and then the calculation came to mind.

He turned to the console, looking for a switch he couldn't find. "Where's the Multi-Dimensional Molecular Equaliser?! Where have you put it it?!" he was shouting, looking frantically for a control that was no longer where it was supposed to be. "We've got four point seven seconds to hit that before the Ninth Version of us gets here!"

And then the Eighth. And the Seventh, and the Sixth ... And so on and so forth, it was going back .... And much as he had loved the Fifth, now was not a good time.

'The what?!' He shouted at his younger self. The Doctor was the first to admit that perhaps he'd forgotten some important names when it came to flying the TARDIS. It wasn't his fault. It was things like age that let him down. And perhaps that he'd never been all too in control of the damn thing in the first place.'You mean the lightswitch? Hold down that blue button, and as soon as I give you the order, squeeze that yellow tube.' He shifted and flicked the switch, giving them seconds to spare.'Now squeeze it!'

The Doctor's hand slapped down on the blue button and, the moment his older self shouted, he squeezed. For a few moments, nothing at all happened. The lights in the console room deeped and there was a long hum like it was powering down. Then it looped back up as the cloister bell stopped chiming. The lights did not come back on to full capacity, however.

The Doctor carefully released the button and his hold on the tube. He looked around, mouth slightly open, waiting for ... something. When he was hopeful that matters had stabilised he straightened up.